Spitting and Swallowing
Now, I know what you're thinking. And while I'm more than happy to talk about whatever practices you dirty-minded people do in the privacy of your own homes, this is actually a post in reference to my life post dental surgery. Let's just say that my love for the chance to suck up some nitrous has dissolved. Unless, of course, I'm going to get some more right quick.
Since Wednesday morning, I've had a constant dull ache on the side of my tongue. It feels like a cross between having taken a cheese grater to it and a charley horse. As the day progresses, and I use it more (you know, for such optional activities as eating, drinking, and talking), it takes on a different quality. In addition to the feeling of raw and achy, on special occasions of use it gets a sharp, just-stuck-it-in-a-220 volt socket feeling that radiates from the back to the tip. Good times.
You just don't really realize how many times a day you swallow until it hurts whenever you do it. And, is it just me, or is it everyone for whom mouth pain activates the salivary glands? The more it hurts, the more I swallow. The more I swallow, the more it hurts.
So on Thursday, I called the dentist. Her office is closed on Friday, so I figured yesterday was my last chance to get things taken care of. Could she have slipped with the zapper? Is this the blowback from excessive novacaine shots? Is it bad karma from my first blissful 30 years of life without a cavity?
According to the hygenist, it's because the wound site is rough, and so my tongue is rubbing up against it and getting "irritated." I beg to differ. My tongue isn't "irritated," it's "enraged." It's about to go postal. It's 1990 Sean Penn when confronted by photographers. Regardless, the weekend treatment is to swish with hot salt water every hour or so to speed healing. Which I then quite daintily spew into the bathroom sink. I'm sure that this is in an Emily Post book somewhere---proper spitting etiquette, anyone?
So, as we enter the weekend, spare a thought for my poor tortured tongue, swallowing on the one hand, and spitting on the other.
Since Wednesday morning, I've had a constant dull ache on the side of my tongue. It feels like a cross between having taken a cheese grater to it and a charley horse. As the day progresses, and I use it more (you know, for such optional activities as eating, drinking, and talking), it takes on a different quality. In addition to the feeling of raw and achy, on special occasions of use it gets a sharp, just-stuck-it-in-a-220 volt socket feeling that radiates from the back to the tip. Good times.
You just don't really realize how many times a day you swallow until it hurts whenever you do it. And, is it just me, or is it everyone for whom mouth pain activates the salivary glands? The more it hurts, the more I swallow. The more I swallow, the more it hurts.
So on Thursday, I called the dentist. Her office is closed on Friday, so I figured yesterday was my last chance to get things taken care of. Could she have slipped with the zapper? Is this the blowback from excessive novacaine shots? Is it bad karma from my first blissful 30 years of life without a cavity?
According to the hygenist, it's because the wound site is rough, and so my tongue is rubbing up against it and getting "irritated." I beg to differ. My tongue isn't "irritated," it's "enraged." It's about to go postal. It's 1990 Sean Penn when confronted by photographers. Regardless, the weekend treatment is to swish with hot salt water every hour or so to speed healing. Which I then quite daintily spew into the bathroom sink. I'm sure that this is in an Emily Post book somewhere---proper spitting etiquette, anyone?
So, as we enter the weekend, spare a thought for my poor tortured tongue, swallowing on the one hand, and spitting on the other.
Labels: whining
posted by kfluff at 4:55 PM
3 Comments:
My dad had the very same issue in the fall after having a tooth extracted. He thought it might be dry socket, but turned out not to be. He said it was extremely painful and felt rough on the side of his tongue. One thing that helped him was to rub some of bébé's Ambesol (I'm sure they make some kind of adult version) on his gum. Good luck!
Oooh, good suggestion!! Maybe I'll stop off and get some (you know, rather than stealing it off some kid!).
And thanks for the info---I was beginning to think it was just me.
I can add to the drug regiment. The next time you skip over the border to the land of the Maple Leaf, go to a drug store and ask the pharmacist for 222s (two-twenty-twos). These are regular ol' aspirin with a wee bit o' codeine in them. You don't need a prescription but you have to ask for them. The bottle may or may not say 222s on it but saying it makes you sound like a homegrown Canuck. It's just enough codeine to knock you out so you can get some sleep. I use 'em when I feel a migraine coming on (because I haven't figured out triggers those funfests yet I can only go away while they run their course).
Don't drive, of course, and don't operate any heavy machinery–like OS X.5.
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